


Please Have Snow & Mistletoe

by fallenxstarr



Category: Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Christmas fic, M/M, christmas break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenxstarr/pseuds/fallenxstarr
Summary: Just a random one-shot Christmas fic! Takes place in Year 4. Baz POV
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Please Have Snow & Mistletoe

I’ve never thought about what staying at Watford for Christmas might be like. Well. If I were being honest, actually I’d thought about it a lot for the past few weeks. 

Snow scalding himself with hot chocolate and probably literally dreaming about sugar plums. Mummer’s house was already spontaneously decked out in ridiculous things like tinsel and holly- which I can’t prove, but I’m sure is at least somewhat Snow’s fault. At least what’s in our actual room was probably part of Snow’s apple cheeked cheer. Last Christmas he was so excited about the holidays he somehow made it snow _in_ our room. When The Mage found out he acted like it was some big show of magick- like this proved Snow was secretly actually a genuine magician invented spells. 

Ignore the fact that he couldn’t figure out how to do it on purpose, I guess. 

And the fact that he was _trying_ to light a fire. Aleister Crowley, I don’t know how me managed to mess up quite that badly but I’m glad he did. I don’t really feel like being roasted. 

Anyway. The point is that in all my increasingly pathetic thoughts of spending the holidays pining after Snow, it’d only ever been something stupid to occupy myself with. Better watching Snow’s mouth than thinking about exams every waking moment. Or, actually, not better. More dangerous. But also, Merlin, I need a break. And it’s not like my exam grades were bound to be anything but fantastic, even without all of my brain power. 

But now that I’d gotten the letter, I didn’t know how to respond to it. 

This year has been.... less than great. Less than liveable at times. More or less because Snow won’t stop dogging me every single step I take, and more or less because I can’t stop noticing how bloody good Snow looks when he’s dogging me every step. 

But mostly because I’d finally gotten confirmation that all my nightmares were true. 

A lot of kids dream about monsters coming to get them. I’ve always dreamt the opposite- the monster coming _out_ of me. Becoming the monster. The monsters coming to get me because I can only ever belong with them now. 

I used to count all the different things that “proved” I was wrong about what I was. For example, I was a vegetarian for about a week and a half. I didn’t need meat, so how could I ever drink blood? I’d tan for days on end, taking in as much sunlight as I could. I even got unhealthily obsessed with my reflection at one point- I do still have my reflection, because that’s all bollocks, but I didn’t realize that at the time. 

At the end, all it amounted to was obsessing even more over something I couldn’t control. I should have thought less about it while I still could. 

Now I think about it constantly, and I have to do it in the rat infested catacombs. It’s a joy, really. 

Which beings me back to- I can’t go home. 

I don’t know how they found out about it. It’s not like father pays much attentions to minutiae, unless it has to do with crops or cows. But I suppose I’m underestimating him. We’ve never talked about it, what could- is- happening to me. But I know he’s had to have been thinking about it too. He must have been paying more attention than I realized. Waiting for some sign. 

The thought makes me nauseous. Not him knowing, but knowing it’s obvious to anyone. 

_“Basilton, I thought you could spend the holiday with your studies this year. The Families could always used more intel as well. You should take the opportunity to find out what you can about what The Mage is planning._

_We’ll see you in the spring.”_

What he didn’t say was “Dear Basilton, I’m afraid you’re going to go on a vampiric rampage and I simple cannot afford anymore crucifixions for the children. Ta-ta!”, but he might as well have. 

The door swung open. 

Snow. 

He stared at me, mouth open, but didn’t say anything. I watched his hand twitch, like for a second he’d forgotten, and was about to go for his sword. 

I wished we weren’t in our room, right then. Snow throwing me to the ground would be a good distraction. So would Snow decapitating me with the Sword of Mages. 

He eyed me like a rabid dog from his corner of the room. It’s the sort of thing you can _feel_. Or maybe I’m just overly tuned into to Snow, after 4 years of living with him and having him watch me like I’m about to do something dastardly. 

“Why aren’t you packing?” He finally managed. I could _hear_ him glowering. 

I decided to ignore him, because if I had to be punished by the universe 3 times over, I was going to at least allow myself a little fun. 

He did exactly what I would have expected- threw down the jumper he was holding, and took a step towards me like we were supposed to pretend the anathema didn’t exist. Crowley, he’s predictable. 

I kept ignoring him. Maybe hoping, a little, that he’d snap. That would be different. End both our misery. 

But instead I heard an intake of breath. 

“Snow!” 

“Is that what passes for Christmas fun for you these days?” I drawled. “Yelling your own name?” 

“No- it’s- look!” His finger was pointed toward the window. 

“You act like you’ve never seen snow before,” I frowned. 

He glared back at me for a second, before shrugging. “It’s the first one of the year. It’s pretty.” 

It was, actually. 

Though I wasn’t about to agree with him out loud. 

“I’m not packing because I’m not going home,” I said, after a few moments, still staring out the window. 

“Why?” 

I turned just in time to see Snow give me a suspicious look. 

He opened his mouth, and I cut him off. “No.” 

“No what?” He complained, still looking suspicious. 

“No to whatever ridiculous thing you were about to accuse me of.” 

His eyebrows knitted together, arms crossed. “Maybe I was going to wish you a happy Christmas.” 

“ _Were_ you?” I asked, petulantly. I could _tell_ I was being petulant. Though I’d earned the right, honestly. 

“Maybe,” He muttered. 

We lapsed into silence. Me, trying to figure out what to do now that I wasn’t packing. Shooting looks out at the snow, and trying to pretend that I wasn’t. Simon Snow doing _something_ behind me, but I was exercising enough restraint to convince myself not to trying to figure out what it was. 

“Do you want to have a snowball fight?” 

_“What_?” I barked. 

His face was bright red. Nobody’s face flushed as completely as Snow’s did. It was a sight. 

He shook his head a few times, sputtering. “I dunno. I-” 

“We haven’t fought enough yet, Snow? Now you want to do it for _fun_?” 

He muttered something I couldn't make out. 

“What?” 

“You’re spending Christmas alone for the first time, I thought- never mind!” 

“Never mind indeed,” I muttered. 

Silence with Snow is never entirely silent. I swear, he gives off a sound of irritation (or anger, or suspicion) like he gives off heat. It’s one of the most frustrating things about him. He’s impossible to ignore. 

And I guess that- and exhaustion from exams, and the fact that I’d just been ousted from my own home of Christmas- was why I gave up on freezing him out like I normally would. 

“Christmas isn’t a flashy celebration for my family anyway. Not like Wellbelove’s dreadful parties.” 

“What do you know about Agatha’s parties?” He glared at me. I raised an eyebrow. 

“The point is,” I continued, before I lost him completely to whatever jealous rage was clawing at him now. “it’s hardly a _situation_. You don’t need to comfort me like a lost animal.” 

“I wouldn’t.” 

As if I didn’t know that. 

Comfort me like a dying elk, maybe. 

“It’s a bit sad, though, isn’t it?” With the edge he gets when he’s trying to start a fight. Usually he doesn’t even need the edge. Telepathic communication for brawls is one of the few perks of our relationship. “They don’t want you home?” 

“No.” 

My eyes flicked back to the window while he waited for me to bite off a witty retort that just plainly was not coming. 

I wasn’t lying about it not being a huge celebration at my house. But... 

“It is sad.” I said it like I was stating the weather, but, Morgana, I _said_ it. For some reason. Prolonged exposure to Snow was making me lose my mind and my tongue. Maybe I _needed_ break- it might have been the only thing keeping me from going mad entirely. 

“I’ll be here too,” Snow said, slowly. “this year.” 

I let the image of a Christmas with Snow take me over for less than a second. Then looked over my shoulder on him, putting on my best evil-vampire-girlfriend-stealer look (only maybe 2 of those were accurate, but the less he knows of that the better). 

“Wellbelove’s finally tossed you, has she?” 

“No! It’s- The Mage said- none of your- your business!” 

Turned back towards the window. “Hmm. Maybe I _will_ go to her party this year. We wouldn’t want her feeling lonely on the holidays.” 

“You- you-” He sputtered, before giving up and just slamming something down. Magick knows what took the full force of his wrath (nothing expensive, at least. Nothing on his side is.) 

He stomped back towards his bed. Grabbed at something, and started toward the door again. 

The spike of panic I felt about him leaving didn’t make any sense. Not logically, since we barely saw each other during the day anyway. Neither did the loneliness right under it. I almost managed not to say anything, before I lost the ability to bite my tongue the way I should. 

“Where are you going?” Came out against my better judgement. Magick knows why. 

“Why?” He demanded. Pouting. Crowley- _pouting_. 

“Wasn’t I promised a snowball fight?” 

He gave me a look, like he wasn’t sure if I was trying to be serious. I wasn’t either. 

“I want to look at the snow,” I said instead. Met his still suspicious eyes. “It’s the first one this year.” 

He didn’t look convinced. Which wasn’t surprising- I don’t think I could have convinced him the sky was blue if he hadn’t already double checked with Bunce or The Mage. 

I watched him open to door, then.... pause. 

“Alright.” 

He didn’t sound happy about it. But I wasn’t about to wait around for him to jump into my arms. 

I stopped right before I crossed the doorway, staring at him. 

His face flushed an even darker red. Something I wouldn’t have thought was impossible. 

“What is it?” 

Right above the frame of our door, someone had hung mistletoe. Snow was under it, red faced and confused and looking bloody gorgeous as always. 

Maybe Christmas at Watford was something I could get used to. 


End file.
